Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Atlas’ POV

*****

Atlanta Georgia, 12:15 AM

The Stormwood coven’s main gathering point ever since the move to America was this city. Teeming with decades of supernatural history.

Atlas had gotten back a while ago but was still trying to settle in. He walked the streets downtown, hands in his jacket’s pockets and mind running.

Earlier today he’d reached out to Celeste via a new astral projection skill he learned. She seemed alright. But he could sense she wasn’t okay deep down. Of course, she wasn’t.

Especially with all she discovered about Azrael.

Nyx... mother of the night.

Now it made sense why she was called that throughout the centuries. She created vampires—the children of the night. Supernaturals who rule the night.

But what did this mean for them?

Were there... more like Azrael out there? Wait—not ’like’ Azrael.

Worst.

So far Azrael hadn’t given any reasons to make him think he was a true threat. Yet he’s shown powers and skills that easily dwarf his. If there were others with that kind of power, all working for Nyx...

"Wolves and witches will be in trouble," he mumbled to himself, stopping in front of a restaurant with West African dishes. There were a few people in it and they appeared to be closing.

He needed something. A distraction.

So, after looking to his left and right one last time, he strode past the door, wearing his friendliest smile. The waitress behind the counter had her focus on a book, barely acknowledging him.

"Sorry, but we’re closed."

Atlas didn’t stop until he got to the counter, placing his hands on its cool surface. "Even for me, Simi?"

The lady’s brows furrowed, head rising to meet Atlas’. Dark skin. Braided light brown hair falling down her shoulders. And glistening lips that curved into a smile when she registered who he was.

"Atlas," she beamed, dropping her book. "My... my goodness, you’re back!"

He nodded. "Yes, I only came back today. Been trying to settle in and just remembered this place during my evening stroll."

Simi chuckled. "Evening stroll, you say? Atlas, it’s midnight. You might as well have taken a broom along with you so we’d know you have plans to fly."

Atlas hid the smirk forming at the corner of his lips. She was human but knew he was a witch. It wasn’t anything to hide anyway.

"You’ve got jollof rice, right?" He asked, eyes scanning the menu.

She nodded. "You’re lucky it hasn’t finished." Then a pause. "So, tell me big guy. That fancy academy you were at. What was the name again?"

"Bloodoak."

"Yes," she snapped her fingers. "That. How has it been there? Have you finally gotten out of your shell and settled into something committed with someone?"

If it were anyone else, Atlas would probably ignore or change the subject. But he trusted Simi enough to keep casual banter like this a secret.

"You can say that." He smiled. "I won’t go into details... but gods, she’s special. I feel blessed really."

Simi giggled, placing both hands on her cheeks. "Come on, give me the full gist."

"Let me eat first." Atlas shook his head, making his way to a table. "I’ll fill you in some other time, Simi."

As he settled on a seat, fingers clasped together, he let his mind trail off again. This time they wandered to the one place that proved more dangerous than anywhere else right now.

Bloodoak Academy.

The wards...

Atlas exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening together as his jaw set. Those wards weren’t just basic protections thrown up by amateur witches. They were layered. Old. Reinforced with pure coven magic that had been refined for two decades.

And yet they failed.

Not weakened or strained.

Failed.

Cleanly and efficiently too.

Like someone knew exactly where to press. And what to twist.

His gaze dropped to the table, unfocused.

"Professor Amelia..." he murmured under his breath.

A werewolf.

That alone should have made everything impossible.

Witches were the ones who tapped into the Vein. Always had been. It wasn’t just tradition—it was compatibility. Alignment. The Vein responded to them, to their magic, their blood and their intent.

Either that or hybrids.

Not wolves. Never wolves.

So how had she done it?

How had she not only accessed it—but used it well enough to dismantle wards crafted by trained witches?

Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"She didn’t," he concluded quietly.

She couldn’t have tapped into it herself. No... She was given access.

The thought settled in his chest like something heavy. "...Nyx." The name barely left his lips, but it carried weight all the same.

If Nyx was granting access to the Vein... if she was choosing who could wield it...

Then this wasn’t random.

This was indeed deliberate and intricately planned.

A slow inhale filled his lungs before he leaned back slightly in his chair, staring up at the dim ceiling lights.

"So you’re expanding your reach now," he muttered. "Even wolves."

The soft sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts.

Simi.

She set a plate down in front of him, the rich scent of jollof rice and spices cutting cleanly through the fog in his head.

"There," she said warmly. "Eat before your thoughts carry you to another dimension."

Atlas blinked once, then looked up at her.

For a moment, he just watched her.

She was so... mundane. Unaffected by the chaos quietly unravelling the world around her.

"You ever get the feeling," he started, voice softer now, "that something’s wrong... but you can’t quite see it yet?"

Simi tilted her head, studying him.

"That depends," she said carefully. "Is this one of your witchy instincts talking? Or are you just overthinking again?"

Atlas huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head. "Nothing you should worry about."

Her brows knitted slightly. "Atlas—"

"I mean it," he cut in gently, offering a small reassuring smile. "It’s just work. Complicated work."

Simi held his gaze for a second longer before sighing.

"Alright," she relented. "But at least eat abeg. You look like you’ve been surviving on air."

That pulled a faint smirk from him. "I’ll try."

She gave him one last look before turning and heading back toward the counter, leaving him alone again.

Atlas picked up his spoon.

Then he took a bite and chewed slowly.

He paused, hand stilling mid-air. "Wait."

The thought hit sharply.

Vein magic left little to no residue. That was known. Proven by the single word letters left for them. It slipped through detection like smoke—untraceable by conventional witchcraft.

But... The wards weren’t Vein-made. They were pure witch magic.

Structured. Anchored. Tangible.

Which meant—

His eyes darkened slightly as realisation clicked into place. "For her to tamper with them..."

She had to interact with them directly.

Not just from afar. Not just through the Vein.

She had to touch them.

And if she touched them, then the magic would remember.

Atlas slowly lowered his spoon, his mind already racing ahead.

Residual imprint. Not Vein energy. But hers. A trace. A signature embedded within the disrupted wards.

If he could collect enough of that lingering magic... Use it as an anchor...

He could track it back to her. To Amelia.

A slow smile spread across his lips. "There you are..."

The first real lead. Something actually tangible. Something he could use.

Atlas reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen for only a second before he started typing.

Three names.

Three people he trusted—whether he liked admitting it or not.

Celeste.

Luther.

And then—

His thumb paused. Hovered.

"...Tch." A quiet exhale left him before he typed the last name anyway.

Azrael.

The message was simple and direct:

"Heading back to Bloodoak. Something’s not right with the wards. If anything happens—be ready."

He stared at it for a second.

Then hit send.

No overthinking or hesitation.

Atlas slipped the phone back into his pocket and pushed his chair back, rising to his feet.

The decision had already been made.

Simi glanced up from the counter as he stood, her brows furrowing. "You’re leaving already?"

"Something came up."

Her gaze flickered to the barely touched plate. "Atlas—your food—"

"I’ll make it up to you," he said, already stepping back from the table.

Before she could say anything else, golden light sparked to life in his palm.

It started small.

A flicker.

Then it expanded—stretching outward, warping the air itself as space bent under his will. The glow intensified, forming a circular tear in reality, its edges shimmering with controlled, radiant energy.

A portal.

Right there in the middle of the restaurant.

Gasps erupted from the few remaining customers. One of them nearly dropped his drink.

Simi froze behind the counter, eyes wide. "Atlas—where are you going?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder, expression calm despite the chaos around him. "Don’t worry about it."

The portal stabilised, revealing darkness on the other side.

Familiar darkness.

Bloodoak Academy.

Atlas stepped toward it without hesitation.

"Not yet, at least," he added quietly.

Then, with one final look, he walked through.

And the light snapped shut behind him.